At the Steps of Heaven's Door
by Jess Angel
Summary: Pre-game. There is no halfway. Reno x Tifa
1. At the Steps of Heaven's Door

**At the Steps of Heaven's Door**  
by Jess Angel

The city of Midgar was a dark place, but at nighttime, it still glowed. From Kalm, you could see it. It was like watching the stars—scattered lights, seemingly without design. The city was a constellation unto itself.

Yet… Midgar couldn't see the stars, so they wouldn't know—the slums least of all.

Tonight, two people walked the city alone.

* * *

He never slept much. Insomnia, it was Reno's blessing and curse. He was the wandering ghost of a wasteland. The wasteland of all motherfucking wastelands. He hated the place, but it was his. In this metropolis of industrial poison, he existed. Reno had no delusions. It'd be a mistake to call what he did living. This was Turk territory. His shadow fell here.

Sidestream smoke from a burning white stick trailed upwards into the sky of an alley.

Complacent, the redhead watched. The planet was polluted in worse ways, he knew. After all, Reno was your modern-day wraith, triggering ice-cold revenge in bullets with his left and delivering electric fire vengeance with his right. Fuck, he made death sound glamorous.

Anyone who knew better knew it wasn't.

A flick of the wrist and a well-loved cigarette was easily discarded. Rude had stuck the smoke in his pocket several hours ago, in with the half-used pack that had already been occupying it. "Sector Five," the bald man said before leaving him outside the door of his apartment, and in true Reno fashion, he'd answered by holding up two fingers in salute, standing firm until the door clicked in valediction.

Elena's had died over in Sector Two. All she'd said was something about contributing to a bad habit that'd most likely end up killing him (job aside), smoking being the only way he knew how to breathe. But, as long it made him happy….

_Happy's the wrong word, Rookie._

Reno smirked remembering the eloquent finger and door slam in his face post-happy comment. He had a way of making even the most innocent of words somehow suggestive. Tseng did tell him to do something to make her feel welcome. What better way than making her a stop on his late night insomniac strolls? Not your typical 'Welcome to the Club' routine, but then the Turks were no champagne-on-a-yacht country club. Frankly, he thought she was damn lucky to be getting the attention.

Scratch that, Blondie Bear was lucky.

Elena had the pleasure of seeing a bonafide Turk with the actual privilege of seeing daylight the next morning. Not every day that happened.

Well, at least he got his kicks.

'Bumming off smokes and irritating her like hell…' Reno reminisced and felt his lips twitch. 'Tseng must really think she'll make it official.' I mean, if Boss Man already had him intruding in on her personal space…

She seemed like a good kid, he decided. Too good, maybe. Reno tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath, his thoughts always falling back to the wasteland.

He used to be a good kid once_._

Reno blinked. Slum air. It was like ceheap beer. Potential wasted. The good stuff already sucked dry but you still chugged it down, hoping to taste life in it. You never did, but you always hoped, or at least pretended to. That was why so many people drowned in the shit. It was a cesspool of illusions—for the willing forsaken.

Reno felt the real bottle in his hand, half-filled and stinking sweet.

He couldn't taste anything. Shattered glass suddenly littered the ground.

_Drink the fuck up._

Absently, the redhead let a thumb stroke the scar on his left cheek. The sound of something breaking wasn't as satisfying as it used to be. Broken things never fixed anything. Reno exhaled and then shook his head amused. It seemed musing was his bitch tonight. He pressed a temple at the side of his head. Then again, he could think of worse things.

Instinctively the Turk tensed. He sensed before hearing or seeing anything; something was close by and moving.

Glittering green eyes stabbed the darkness. It was probably just that damn tabby cat again, he reasoned, come to mooch off him. The thing rarely left him alone during these rounds. One night a couple weeks ago it followed Reno, up 'til he was back at his apartment. Reluctantly, he had let the feline in. He even offered it a saucer of milk. Just one. A little something for the road, he'd mumbled, and then laughed at himself, like the cat would have any idea what he was saying.

Reno wished then it had understood him. Because after that the damn cat thought he owned him.

He thought he'd lost it at Elena's tonight. Figured it had decided to shack up there, seeing as how El had gone all bananas for the furball when she caught sight of it peering up at her from behind his leg.

Must've snuck out - smothered enough for the night.

Reno was almost tempted to call out to the cat, but… it wasn't furball. Not by a long-shot.

'Of all people,' the redhead thought.

He pushed himself off the wall, slipping out of the shadows and into the street's cold moonlight. "You know better than to walk the slums at night."

Reno revealed himself and approached the figure, noting the deer in headlights expression. The only difference between her and a deer was she had raised fists. He was tempted to smile; she was the spitting image of vulnerable with a kick.

The Turk watched as the owner of Seventh Heaven lowered her hands, cleared from the momentary stun of running into him.

She gave him a 'bite me' look. "I'm heading back already, alright?"

A twist of the lips. "Aw. What, no kiss?"

A glare was all the answer he got. Still, Reno went on to give her an impartial nod, his hands sliding deep into blue pockets. "Okay. I'll walk you."

A pause and Reno was curious. She seemed a little sharp, a little shaken. He wanted to ask.

But Tifa didn't wait. "Don't bother. You know I can take care of myself." Fists tightened as she moved past him. "And please, you playing hero?"

Reno's eyes bore into her back. He noticed her steps fell hesitant, unable to ignore his shadow tailing her.

"What?" He was almost annoyed. "You were waiting for someone else?"

Tifa stopped abruptly and turned to look at him—a stranger in her eyes. Still, she failed to answer.

This time Reno wasn't about to ask. It wasn't his business, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to make another slip. Being interested in something other than Tifa Lockheart's bartending skills was straight-in-his-Turk-face folly. Late night walking was what Reno did. Walking her wasn't the same as walking with her. They may be moving together, but their paths were paved different. Separate.

He was walking alone anyway.

Tifa let out a heavy breath, and Reno felt… sorry. For what? He wasn't sure. It bothered him.

Reno didn't want to be bothered.

The bartender turned away. "Just… do what you want," she said, before continuing towards Sector Six.

It was enough for him. "Don't I always?"

Reno moved to catch up, and eventually, their pace matched.

* * *

The neon lights of both closed and open shops were bright and glaring around them. They moved expertly about the market, bypassing shady dealings and unwanted attention. Yet the air between them remained wordless, and they pressed on in a silence not quite awkward or comfortable.

It was a strange balance.

Two caught up in old pains alone. Haunted. Hopeless and Hopeful.

Tifa stroked the leather of her worn gloves. She spoke first, her voice losing a bit of its initial edge. "So, what're you doing up?"

It hadn't occurred to him to lie to her. "Sleep? A lot of the time I don't. 'Sides, being a Turk's a twenty-four seven job." Reno half-shrugged. "Convenient."

Her eyes were knowing. "So you can't sleep at night."

"Never expected you to have sympathy for the devil," he brushed off.

"I don't."

"No, you don't." A slight smile and he wasn't so serious. "Sympathy for a cute golden-haired chocobo, maybe, but none for the red-haired devil."

Tifa looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. "Right."

It made him grin.

Reno turned in front of her and proceeded to walk backwards, easily mirroring her as they went. He cocked his head at her.

She gave him a light look. "I'd sooner call you a 'turk'ey than the devil. Or better yet, a rooster." She turned it up a notch. "Really, Reno." Her smile outdid his cheekily. "How could you miss the resemblance?"

"Hardy fuckin' har." The Turk paused to block her way, shifting from side to side as she did. Tifa finally kicked his shoe in retaliation, causing him to stumble back. The redhead yielded, but not without sticking out his tongue and retorting, "I bet you like roosters."

The brunette laughed and he was at her left again.

Sometimes it was too easy to be with him.

Tifa looked away, feeling weakness. She remembered who they were.

"Look, you don't have to do this," she gently, but firmly insisted. "You know things are… different now. I don't want you to get in trouble—and don't look at me like that. You know what I mean.

"Barrett's not exactly happy you still hang around the bar as often as you do," she added.

Tifa watched something pass over his face and braced herself for a smart comeback. She knew his wit could be a defense mechanism honed as deadly as any knife he owned.

"Yeah, I know I don't." But Reno didn't feel like being smart tonight. "I'm going to anyway. So save it. We're nearly there, right?"

It hurt. But he could run hot and cold with her all night.

Tifa watched him stare ahead, the same and different. Suddenly she felt like baiting him. It was better to push. "And since when was gentleman on your repertoire, or are you just stalking me?"

There was no bitter smile.

"I thought we were friends."

"Turks have no friends."

"And yet you know me so well."

She laughed almost cynically. "I know Turks."

"So do I. You don't know shit enough." Reno eyed her. "And don't do that, it doesn't suit you." He saw her blink in surprise. "As for Turks, we're more human than you think. Less human than most, sure. But then, inherently, I believe humans are evil." The redhead continued his twisted logic. "And that changes definitions - what it means to be human."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"So what?" Tifa tried to follow his reasoning. "Are you saying you believe the more evil a person is, the more human they are?"

"Bingo. To be evil is to be human."

"That's bull."

"Bullshit, dear. There is no halfway."

The brunette wondered for a moment. "No way." She looked him in the eye. "You don't believe that." She saw a jump. "To be evil isn't human, it's to be flawed that's human."

"Same difference."

"It is not! They're not the same, Reno." She felt compelled to argue.

He stared back. "Yeah, well…"

A warning began to light in her eyes.

"I know."

He wasn't smirking but Tifa could feel it well enough.

She playfully jabbed his side. "And you're annoying. I have mentioned that, haven't I? I know Rude'd back me up on that."

"Rude loves me."

She shot him a look. "That doesn't change the fact that you are."

_You love me._

With that thought, Reno's grin faltered. He realized she was living and dying like him.

This wasn't safe.

"And you're not as perfect as you think." He let it slip. "But you are…"

He had all her attention then. "What?"

"Perfect."

She colored. "Hardly."

He didn't answer, and they continued to walk.

* * *

Reno watched Tifa tug at her lower lip. "What were you doing up?"

"Thinking," the brunette nodded.

"And you couldn't do that inside the bar?"

"You know, a normal person would ask what I was thinking about."

"I might've," he answered, "but that's not what you wanted."

She gave herself away too easily. "So I needed some air, too."

"Bull."

"Shit. There is no halfway, remember?"

Tifa could imagine him smiling.

They bumped shoulders. "I do."

Reno fingered the cigarette pack in his pocket.

It was empty.

Tifa heard him curse, but her gaze rose to the sky. It wasn't the one she'd grown up watching; yet it would be a memory too.

She missed the stars.

"I was dreaming," Tifa finally confessed, her ruby eyes lowering. "I mean, I was trying to forget a dream." She tried to smile, but it was tired. "It's silly." She shook her head. "Nothing to worry about it."

Strange. He never remembered his dreams. But apparently she did, and they seemed important to her.

"Then don't."

There were stars behind her eyes.

And Reno realized he hated that tired smile. He tugged at a lock of her hair. "Hey, your dream led you to me."

The way he said it surprised Tifa. It lacked any suggestion. On his part, it was innocent–naïve of so many things. And that fraction of him was ten times more dangerous than the scar-seasoned Turk she served drinks to. It made her forget things.

After Sephiroth came to Nibelheim, she had had no trouble thinking in black and white. But when she came to Midgar, she'd made friends; and after she joined AVALANCHE, she had to decide between those friends. Out of necessity, Tifa forced herself back into that black-and-white paradigm. Confronting shades of Reno was problematic—for the both of them.

_Hey, your dream led you to me…._

It was an understatement to say realizing of all of this was a bit unnerving. Aware, she saw what she hadn't before.

And the only thing Tifa could do was…

"Lucky me," she meant to joke.

Ignore it.

Reno stopped. "Ditto." He smiled, suddenly distant.

She could become the worst of his bad habits.

* * *

The bar stood before them, and they faced each other quiet.

Tifa took the steps up to Seventh Heaven. The Turk didn't expect her to turn around, but she did. And she looked at him. "You… want to come in?"

His hands were still deep in his pockets. "You offering?"

"I," she seemed to think. "I can make you something."

It was funny, how he liked the way she said things. "Nah, I'll be around tomorrow anyway."

One day he'd wish he'd seen the trace of disappointment in her face.

"Same time then?"

He nodded.

Then she smiled at him. "Reno–"

"You don't have to say it."

She wanted to say 'I know.' "Then I won't."

"Good." He touched the back of his neck. "Goodnight, Tif'." He held her eyes. One retreating step and he turned - back to the wasteland.

Tifa watched as he faded from the porch light. "'Night, Reno."

…**Fin.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **I had big expectations for this one; there's just something about it I really, really like. Not sure if I achieved exactly what I wanted, but I tried. I guess I need some feedback from you guys to see it with fresher eyes. This was actually inspired by the last scene and dialogue, which came to me months and months ago, late at night when I was half-awake and half-asleep. You could say I sort of dreamt it up. In a day or so, expect an optional drabble sequel to this; because it's short, I decided to post it as the next chapter instead of individually.

I'd like to thank you readers, old and new, for checking this out as well as my friend Vash-chan for looking this over for me. It's good to have written and posted again. You can find extras on my xanga, which I've converted into a writing journal of sorts to put additional notes, actual songs and their lyrics (as they're not allowed here anymore) that inspire this story and others. Link: www . xanga Angelic(underscore)Chaos / 457233549 / at-the-steps-of-heavens-door . html

(And a happy birthday to my lovely cous', Sanna.)

**Endnotes**  
1. Blondie Bear: nickname given to the character Spike from Joss Whedon/the WB's Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
2. Hardy fuckin' har: quote from Mr. White of Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs  
3. Not like it really matters, but I thought I'd mentioned that I think I messed with the geography of the sectors.

Final Fantasy VII and its characters © Square-Enix, Inc.


	2. Estranged Heroes

** Estranged Heroes**  
_… a drabble followed by a half-drabble …_  
by Jess Angel

It's better not to, y'know?

Better to pretend we just met. That we're worlds apart. Enemies. From day one 'til the end. I don't know your name, you don't know mine. No, you have a new _boyfriend_. Mako blue eyes, not green like mine. Blond hair, not red – but just as fucked up as mine.

…Dear Boy Scout has the balls to glare at me as I eye you despite myself.

Am I that bad, sweetheart? You can't even spare me a glance?

Guess I am. Angels with devils. Should've known my trips to Heaven'd never last.

Strangers. The line of nothing more, nothing less.

You know I'd prefer that over any star-crossed shit.

But you? Hate me, sweetheart? You don't even know me.

Pretend… Better, isn't it?

Our eyes catch. Then—

Soldier Boy has you again.

Fine. Then let's pretend. You and I.

We never met.

…**Fin.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **A short optional sequel to "At the Steps of Heaven's Door." One could take it as a stand alone piece, especially if not a fan of the rather bitter ending. It could be very canon though, ne? I actually wrote this before ASHD; and after rereading it, it's amazing how well it connects to the fic - the fourth and fifth line from the bottom, particularly. I also have ideas for post-/ASHD/-related scenes, but I'm still debating on whether I want to do them or not.

Those who reviewed ASHD, it meant -a lot- to me.

Extras: www . xanga Angelic(underscore)Chaos / 459136346 / estranged-heroes . html

Final Fantasy VII and its characters © Square-Enix, Inc.


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